


Be Faster Next Time

by foibles_fables



Category: Legend of the Seeker (TV)
Genre: Cara gets more than she bargained for, F/F, Mild Sexual Content, Play Fighting, Sexual Frustration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:48:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23568601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foibles_fables/pseuds/foibles_fables
Summary: Cara was good at combat (and a couple other things). She was also generous when she wanted to be.
Relationships: Kahlan Amnell/Cara Mason
Comments: 16
Kudos: 104





	Be Faster Next Time

**Author's Note:**

> Long story short: my LiveJournal was deleted and purged, but I found this eleven-year-old unpublished work on the Wayback Machine. I dusted it off and decided to let it join the rest. Hope it's not completely awful.

It was beginning to get to her.

Gallivanting along the endless countryside with the Seeker’s band of merry do-gooders, detouring from their quest at nearly every turn, had become increasingly irritating over the past months. After the initial period of internal and all-consuming rage, Cara had grown exceedingly efficient at finding ways to entertain herself. It was a defense against their infuriatingly helpful dispositions, just in case it became contagious. This kept her from going quietly yet absolutely insane. This was merely one activity of choice.

High afternoon sun, the location: a clearing in the woods a number of paces from their campsite. She waited, pure stealth, in the fringe of the trees, using their cover wisely – she could see but couldn’t be seen. Her eyes were fixed on her prey, hawk-like, sharp; she could sense every movement, every twitch, every pulse. After all, her training had been thorough and potent. The surrounding woods slipped out of focus until it was just her and the other creature just inside of the clearing. 

But  _ this _ was no ordinary hunt. Cara’s tongue flicked across her lips, a tic of concentration, one side of her mouth pulling upward into a smug smirk.

Her target bent at the waist to gather another handful of kindling. Not a wise choice, Cara chided silently, mirroring the action as she picked up a branch the length of her arm from the ground beside her. This would do. It did not make the slightest noise against the underbrush as she lifted it. She would never see  _ or _ hear her coming, Cara knew, and there was a surge of excitement to accompany the thought. There was danger involved here, grave danger, the kind that made the blood in Cara’s veins dance. Her ears rang, her stomach tightened, her fingers tingled. Her breath quickened and her heartbeat kept rhythm with it.

When Kahlan straightened, sweeping her long dark tresses behind her shoulder with a flick of her wrist, Cara made her move. Strong and practiced muscles bunched and tightened as she took two fast, long, powerful strides before pushing herself airborne into a graceful leap. Sailing through the air, time slowed down, and she gripped the stick in a gloved hand. 

Kahlan, of course, reacted, but not until after Cara whacked her across the shoulder blades with the branch – not hard enough to cause any sort of damage (Richard would  _ not _ approve), but it gets the point across. Kahlan let out a yelp of surprise and whirled around to the apparent source of the contact, to the rear, but Cara was already standing in front of her, tossing the stick aside and folding her arms over her chest. Satisfaction. The first score.

Kahlan whipped back around, reaching across with her right hand to touch the opposite shoulder. Her humorously-furrowed brow and narrowed eyes that read  _ not amused _ only served to twist Cara’s grin even more. She cocked her hips to the side, taking a wide-legged stance, raising her eyebrows at Kahlan. She clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

“If I was a baneling,” she commented, shaking her head (Kahlan’s frown deepened), “you’d be dead right now.”

“I was alone and you jumped me.” Kahlan’s voice was sharp, obviously exasperated, as she shifted the brushwood to the crook of one arm and placed the other hand on her hip. Her eyes met Cara’s, steely, deadpan. “Don’t you realize what a bad idea that was? I could have killed you!”

“ _ Could _ have.” Even though Kahlan was completely right – Cara could have been dead where she stood – banter was banter. 

“You used a  _ stick _ as a weapon.”

“Oh, not valiant enough for you, Mother Confessor?” Cara’s eyes widened as she tilted her head mockingly. “I promise as your  _ pathetic  _ supplicant to try better.” Kahlan rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile and Cara took it as a go-ahead to the next stage. “Would you have preferred me to use these?” She reached for her hip holsters and unsheathed her Agiels, squeezing them in her palms, drawing out a steady stream of pain. Kahlan was wearing a smile to match her own now as she unceremoniously dropped the kindling she had gathered, pulling out her own daggers.

Once upon a time, Cara would have considered play-fighting to be utterly useless. No substitute for the real thing, no comparison to the actual intent of bloodshed. Now, it kept her from becoming restless, kept her on her toes. And with a fighter like Kahlan, Cara had to admit, maybe it wasn’t so useless after all.

Besides, in a real fight, Kahlan would win. Mock battle was Cara’s only opportunity to test her skills against her.

Without the hint of warning, she pounced at Kahlan, leading with the Agiel, teeth bared in aggressive exertion. Kahlan sidestepped fluidly, passing Cara’s extended hand with her elbow, using the Mord’Sith’s own momentum to throw her off-balance. But she caught herself quickly and whirled back towards Kahlan, preparing herself once again, clenching her weapons tight in her fists. She lunged, much closer this time, feet planted to the ground and knees bent, providing a sturdy base. After a few seconds of struggle between them, all elbows and quick, heated vocalizations, Cara tagged Kahlan’s forearm with an Agiel. The contact lasted for a fraction of a second. Block and counter. The Confessor hissed loudly at the weapon’s touch.

“Fast.” Cara nodded and tossed her head, flipping blonde hair out of her face. “But not fast enough.”

Her words were met with a charge by Kahlan, two daggers dancing through nimble fingers and arcing through the air. Cara let out a hiss of her own and moved in tandem with them, ducking and dodging as fine silver points sliced the empty air in skillful patterns, but never finding purchase, never catching leather. A few came dangerously close, though, close enough to make the tiny hairs on the back of Cara’s neck prickle. Kahlan took another swing; Cara arched away before lifting her leg, finding Kahlan’s hip bone with the bottom of her boot, and giving a solid push. Kahlan stumbled backwards, giving Cara room to take upper hand once again.

She caught Kahlan’s wrist as the Confessor reared back to strike again. Attempting to wrench herself free, Kahlan’s other arm swung for Cara’s side, which the Mord’Sith thwarted with a tight block before trapping it beneath her own arm. She used the threat of her Agiels’ touch to disarm Kahlan of both of her weapons simultaneously. But she held Kahlan in that deadlock for just a second longer, enough time for her lips to curl into a triumphant sneer.

She released Kahlan and resheathed her Agiels. Level ground once again. But Kahlan’s arm was quick to come around her neck from the side in a quite persuasive headlock. Cara responded quickly, shifting her hips to roll Kahlan to the side, using her thigh to stabilize Kahlan’s back as she crashed to the ground. Cara was not looking to actually incapacitate her, and landing on her back like that would surely take her wind. Still, Cara was merciless as she clambered on top of Kahlan’s supine-sprawled body, pushing her legs out of the way with a little more force than necessary. Her open palms made a reverberating  _ crack _ against the Confessor’s calves. Kahlan’s eyes didn’t betray any pain, only determination to get back on her feet. 

But Cara pinned her there, forearm resting against her throat (a true negotiator in real circumstances), her other hand pressed to Kahlan’s shoulder.

But Kahlan was suddenly smiling, and Cara realized too late that it was because she had found a weakness in the hold. Kahlan’s hand wriggled free of its trap and flew upwards, softly striking Cara across the jaw. 

The incredulous outrage that managed to sneak past Cara’s mask for the briefest instant, burning in her blue-green eyes, made Kahlan laugh out loud, distracting her enough to allow Cara to grab her wrist and press it to the ground next to her head. Using her leverage and weight as a placeholder she did the same with the other, spreading herself evenly over Kahlan’s body to provide an almost-perfect hold. Kahlan writhed and struggled, trying to break out of it, all while holding back more laughter at her predicament. Some escaped. She wrenched again, arching her back, and Cara met her force and redirected it with a downward shift of her own hips.

It wasn’t long, though, until Kahlan’s laughter became very breathy and her eyes darkened. For just a few seconds, Cara attributed it to exhaustion or fatigue. 

But when Kahlan pushed her hips upward in a motion completely unnecessary to escape, directly into Cara, she  _ knew _ . 

Without having to look down, she knew that her thigh was snug against the apex of Kahlan’s. Red leather was splitting bare, porcelain skin and the skirt of Kahlan’s traveling dress was folded up. With a dropping feeling in her belly, it dawned on Cara that Kahlan was reacting to every movement, all of the pressure and friction, a little too much. It was intense stimulation in exactly the right spot, and Kahlan’s mind was quite apparently reeling.

This was turning out to be quite different than Cara had been expecting.

Still.

Cara pressed her thigh against Kahlan’s center quite subtly, an experiment. There was a tiny strangled whimper from the Confessor that Cara wouldn’t have heard if she hadn’t been listening for it. Kahlan’s blue gaze, still locked with Cara’s, swirled with a mixture of embarrassment, fear, and heavy,  _ heavy _ arousal. Her breasts heaved. Her body had gone rigid.

Cara pretended not to notice.

All of the contact between them must have caused quite a stir, she figured, and it was not a surprise. Suppression in that sense was an absurd concept to her, like refusing to take water when one is thirsty. But it was a part of Kahlan’s reality - to be starving for physical attention and affection, body craving, aching, suffering through urges that can’t be satisfied in any convenient or safe way. Cara tensed her thigh and Kahlan shivered beneath her. 

Again, Cara pretended not to notice. 

She still had Kahlan’s hands pinned to the ground, and her luxuriant hair was splayed there as well, with a few wisps lying defiantly across her face. Downright distracting. It would be almost impossible to imagine herself in Kahlan’s place: so much pent-up, smoldering energy waiting to burst into flames. Trembling liquid threatening to gush over.

Here, Kahlan had helped Cara with her boredom. Cara could help her with this. It was a fair exchange, a payment of debt, not a far cry from what she used to do for her sisters.

So Cara began to move, masking the motion of her trapped thigh as attempts to stop Kahlan’s escape. It quickly became rhythmic as Cara took hints from Kahlan’s barely-concealed reaction, whether to go quicker or harder or slow down. Kahlan drew a shaky breath as she squirmed, rubbing against Cara, biting her lip. When Cara changed the angle of her weight, leaning farther forward, Kahlan’s mouth opened wide in a silent gasp.

But when Cara felt Kahlan’s body begin to tense dramatically, she forced herself to stop. If she let Kahlan finish, one touch could kill her. It was not worth her life, she decided begrudgingly. She was able to help get Kahlan this far. That counted for something.

So she released Kahlan’s wrists and slowly drew herself to her feet. Kahlan remained on the ground, motionless, probably very dizzy and very frustrated. Her eyes were half-lidded and glossy, her lips parted, and her cheeks flushed with deep pink tinge. Cara gazed down at her sprawled body, pursing her lips.

“I’m going back to the campsite.” She slowly turned away and took a few strides away from Kahlan. She would leave Kahlan here to finish herself off, if that’s what Kahlan decided to do. The safe way. The only way. There was a rush of pity here, but it passed quickly. 

This wouldn’t be mentioned again.

Before she can travel too far, Cara glanced over her shoulder, but not enough to make eye contact with the woman still splayed on the ground.

“Be faster next time.”

She left it up to Kahlan to decide what this meant.


End file.
